by Beck, J. L.
“Hey, you. Feeling better?” His sleepy voice is gruff, but the hand cradling my head is warm and gentle.
“Yeah… I don’t know what happened, I think I drank too much,” I admit. Only then do I remember the creep who got handsy with me earlier. “Thanks for helping me with that guy earlier.”
“There is no need to thank me.” Oliver’s voice drops, and I involuntarily shiver at the deepness of it. “We’re friends, and that’s what friends do, they protect each other.”
I don’t understand why if everyone is telling me to stay away from them, why he would protect me, or even say we’re friends. Am I dreaming still?
“Are we friends?” I ask, sitting up, and slowly turning to face him. “Everyone keeps telling me to stay away from you and your brothers because you are trying to hurt me.”
“We’re friends.” He answers, his voice clipped. “And hurting you is the last thing any of us want to do.” The sincerity of his voice causes a slow heat to unravel through my lower belly.
“Were… were we ever more than friends?” I stutter over the words, asking the question. Do I really want to know the answer? All these memories, and thoughts, the things that guy said to me earlier about wanting three… cocks. It was almost as if he was implying that I was sleeping with all three of them.
“It’s complicated… just know that we care about you and we are trying to watch out for you. No one is going to hurt you, not ever again.”
“And by we you mean you, Banks, and Sullivan?”
“Yes, we all care about you.” His eyes dart away, and he looks out the window into the darkness of the night. There’s a long pause before he speaks again, and it’s almost like he’s gathering his own thoughts. “I should take you back to your dorm, now that you’re feeling better.”
I’m about to object, but he’s already out the door, leaving me alone in the backseat. He climbs into the front and starts the car, the engine roaring to life, and filling the quiet space.
The entire ride back to the dorms he’s quiet, and so am I, unsure of what to say or do. I should ask more questions, investigate him and his brothers further, but as soon as I open my mouth to start speaking, we pull up in front of the dorms. The two goons my father sent with me walk up to the car as soon as Oliver puts it into park, almost as if they expected us to be here.
One of them opens the door for me, a somber look on his face. “Miss Harlow, you should have stayed in your dorm. That was very dangerous, and because of your reckless behavior, we have to report this back to your father.”
“Oh no, anything but that…” I say, sarcastically, letting out an exaggerated gasp and rolling my eyes. “You do realize that I’m an adult, right? That I’m in college, and that I’m not actually required to listen to you or him?”
“Your father just wants you to be safe.” So he keeps saying, almost like he’s trying to convince everybody around me that his intentions are pure, but not everyone knows the things I do, or the gut feelings I’m experiencing.
“Goodnight, Harlow,” Oliver calls from the front seat before I get out of the car, obviously having heard the entire exchange.
“Goodnight,” I respond and shut the door behind me. As soon as I do, he speeds off. I guess he couldn’t wait to get out of here. Shrugging, I walk back into the dorm, ignoring the two lugs that follow behind me until I make it to the door. Escaping inside, I walk up the stairs, stopping once I reach my dorm room door.
I realize then that I never did find Shelby, and the thought of her alone at that party is unsettling. Maybe I can go back and get her? No, I’m too exhausted for that. I’m seconds away from having a breakdown when the door to my room opens, and Shelby appears before me, her thin arms wrapping around me, pulling me into her chest. I’m briefly aware of her tugging me inside the room and closing the door behind us.
“Oh my gosh! I was worried sick, Harlow. I went looking for you, and someone said they saw you leave with Oliver. What happened? Did he hurt you?” The panic in her face has my knees buckling. All this time I was worried about her, while she was here looking for me.
“He didn’t hurt me,” I mumble as she helps me to my bed. There’s a throbbing directly behind my eyes that makes it feel like I’ve been beaten over my head half a dozen times with a brick. “He saved me,” I add.
“Saved you?” Shelby says, completely baffled.
“Yeah, some guy was getting handsy with me, and he told him to go away. He helped me out to his car and then I fell asleep for a little while. When I woke up, I felt better.”
Shelby looks, well, like she’s about to be sick, “Oliver didn’t protect you, Harlow, he set you up. The entire time I was inside, it was because he refused to let me come out to you. I went in to make you a drink, and he blocked the exit when I tried to come back outside. Then he put something in the drink I made you and gave it to some guy, told him to bring it to you saying it was from me, but I would never do that to you.” Shame fills her eyes. “He drugged you, Harlow! He wasn’t trying to save you, he was trying to use you, hurt you, and this isn’t the first time this kind of thing has happened. I think it’s time I tell you the whole truth.”
“What whole truth? What the hell are you talking about?”
Shelby sits down on the mattress beside me, “I wanted to tell you, but your parents thought it would be too stressful, so I’ve tried not to say anything, but you have to know about the Bishops for your own sake, and apparently, your safety now too.”
My stomach drops, and I stare at her, waiting for her to start speaking.
“Before the accident, the Bishops followed you here, to Bayshore. They wanted revenge, and I’m pretty sure, though, I don’t have proof, I’m positive, that it was one of them that hit you with the car. It wouldn’t surprise me, at all. They tried to kill you once before, by pushing you off a boat we were partying on. You almost drowned!”
“Why? Why would they do that? Why do the police not know about these things?”
Shelby scoffs, “They’re not stupid, they covered their tracks, but if you are looking for proof that they’ve tried to hurt you, I can give you a lot of that and then some.”
“Proof? What proof?” My chest hurts simply thinking about Oliver trying to hurt me. He was so nice earlier…so kind, and tender-hearted, and I felt safe with him. Can I really be that bad of a judge of character?
Shelby grabs onto my hand, a frown overtaking her lips, “They didn’t just try to hurt you physically. They bullied you the entire time you were here. You can ask almost any student at the university. Most of them know about it or have seen it first-hand. They spread rumors about you, saying you slept with a bunch of guys, and even worse they told people you liked threesomes, kinky sex, and that you were pathetically lovesick over them because they rejected you.”
Shelby shakes her head and pulls her phone out, searching for something on Facebook. “As if that wasn’t enough, they even made a banner and hung it up on campus with your number on it.” She hands me the phone. There are some photos pulled up from a profile of some girl named Tiffany. The first one is of her sitting on Oliver’s lap nibbling on his neck. Jealousy floods my system, and I don’t know what to make of that. I hold no claim over him, and apparently, I never did, so why the hell do I feel this way?
Scrolling down the pictures, it only gets worse. More of her and Oliver, others of her with Banks. Then Banks with another girl. Sullivan is in some as well. All of them make me feel the same way. Jealous and betrayed, neither one of those feelings is justified or explainable.
Then I find one picture that hits home. Tiffany, two other girls, and the Bishop brothers are standing in front of a banner, posing with it and laughing. It reads Harlow Needs More Dick- Send Pics If you’re DTF! A number, which I assume used to be mine is written with it.
“It was terrible. Your phone wouldn’t stop ringing, you had to get a new number. Guys would harass you walking across campus. I don’t know why they were so cruel to you.”
&
nbsp; I don’t understand. I can feel my heart struggling to beat. It feels like I’ve been gutted, and I’m struggling to hold myself together.
“I’m sorry, Harlow. I tried to stop it, but it was pretty much the whole school against us two. Then the accident happened, and I was so worried about you.” Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears.
“Thank you for being a great friend, Shelby, you’ve always stuck by my side… through everything, even when I didn’t remember who you were,” I force a smile because honestly, I feel like crying right now. I’m not sure why, but I do. It’s like the very thought of them doing those things taints the perfect images I have of them inside my mind.
“Well, what are friends for if not to protect those that they care about. You would have done the same for me. Now let’s try and get some sleep before the sun comes up.”
I nod in agreement, while Shelby gets up and starts to put on her PJs. I don’t even bother. All I do is slip out of my shoes and skinny jeans before curling up in my bed. When the lights are out, and the room is blanketed in silence, I wait for sleep to come, but it never does, and instead, I find myself staring up at the ceiling wondering why if the Bishop brothers were so mean to me, if they bullied me, why do I feel so connected to them? Why does it physically hurt to think about them being with someone else?
6
It’s been two days since the party, but the ache in my chest from what Shelby shared with me hasn’t stopped throbbing. It feels like a bruise that’s continually being prodded at, never getting the chance to heal. Luckily, I haven’t seen any of the Bishop brothers, and I’m more than okay with that. I’m not really sure how to approach them now that I know the truth. Hell, I don’t even really understand all of this.
My emotions are a rollercoaster ride, up and down with each curve, then a loop as the final blow. I want to hate all three of them, but deep down in the pit of my stomach, there is this flicker of doubt that I could ever hate them. If I could just get my stupid memory back, maybe I could finally make sense of everything.
Walking into class, I’m reminded of Shelby’s words, “They followed you here to get revenge.” Those words alone, coupled with the ones Matt told me, “I think you would much rather kill each other than screw.”
Then there are the pictures on the phone… the things they did.
Everything points to what everyone has been telling me… we have been nothing but enemies, rivals.
Pushing the thoughts away, I find a seat at one of the empty tables at the back of the chemistry class. There are small lab stations already set up in the center of each table, and the look of it makes me nervous. I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing here, hopefully, whoever decides to sit beside me knows what to do.
A petite looking girl with short brown hair appears out of thin air, sliding into the seat beside me. She smiles blissfully, and as I stare at her, maybe a little too long, I can’t help but think she looks like an adult version of Tinkerbell.
“Hi, Harlow. I’m Caroline.”
She must know me.
“Hi,” I try and make myself smile back, but there’s no point. There’s too much going on inside my head, and honestly, I’m not happy enough right now to muster up even the tiniest of smiles, and faking it just isn’t cutting it anymore.
“I’m guessing we knew each other, and that’s how you know my name?” I try not to sound annoyed, because truly I’m not, but this memory loss thing is starting to weigh on me, among other things.
“Yes, we are friends, or at least I hope we still are,” she raises an eyebrow as if she’s awaiting a response.
“Maybe… I guess we have to start all over again. My brains a little like scrambled eggs right now.”
“I’m up for that,” she smiles and extends her hand out to me. “Hi, I’m Caroline, it’s nice to meet you.”
Taking hold of her hand, I give it a gentle squeeze. “It’s nice to meet you, Caroline.”
“I’m so glad that you’re okay, minus the memory issues and all.” She smiles again, and I wonder how she does that, appears to be happy all the time.
“Hi, Harlow,” another girl says, as she saunters up to our table. Looking up at her, I realize she’s the Tiffany chick from the pictures that Shelby showed me the other night. My mood sours even further then.
I don’t need this reminder of how I was treated and how the Bishops played me. Without greeting her, I pull out my textbook, and open it up, pretending to find some imaginary page I’m looking for. Anything is more interesting at this point than reliving the hell of something I can’t remember.
“What’s the matter? Too good to say hi now?” Tiffany huffs, leaning against the table, the bracelets on her wrist clanking loudly against the wood. “Seems like you remember me just fine. So I’m guessing the whole losing your memory thing is just a scam to get attention? Do you think that’s how you’ll get the Bishops to notice you?”
“Don’t talk to her,” Caroline snaps back.
“Well, look at you, growing a backbone, and shit.” The muscles in my jaw tighten, my teeth grinding together so harshly I can hear the sound of them clashing together in my ears.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Caroline wrinkles her nose, “and honestly, you don’t even deserve to be in her presence. You’re nothing but a big bully.”
Tiffany narrows her eyes and leans even further across the table, and I have half a mind to shove her arms back and watch her fall face-first against the wooden surface.
“That’s rich, as if the Bishop brothers had nothing to do with it? Who do you think told me to do it? You think the banner was my idea? Think again.”
“I’m sure you had to be talked into it,” Caroline glares, her eyes burning like molten lava. “That you didn’t enjoy even one second of it.”
Scoffing Tiffany fires right back, “As if she wasn’t enjoying all the attention, too bad it wasn’t enough to hold the Bishops’ interest. At the end of the day, they come to my bed.”
“Tiffany, please find a seat.” The professor shouts from the front of the classroom, his voice ringing through the space, drawing excess attention to the three of us.
“You’re lucky, both of you,” Tiffany practically spits the words, before turning on her heeled feet to find an empty seat. As soon as she’s gone, I all but melt into my chair.
Well, that was enjoyable, not.
The professor tells us to open our books to page seventy-five and starts talking about something from last week’s class. I try and focus on the board and on the notes, but every time I look toward the board, I see Tiffany’s stupid blonde head.
Caroline leans over and whispers, “I’m sorry you had to see that, and that we talked as if you weren’t here. She just makes me so angry. Always playing the victim.” Fire still flickers in her eyes, and I know her intentions are pure. She’s just trying to be a friend.
The rest of the class goes by in a flash, that is, once I forget about the blonde skank sitting a few feet away. With the memory of her fading, I actually start to enjoy myself. That is right up until it’s time for the hands-on experiment to take place.
Nervously, I look over at Caroline, “Do you know anything about this chemistry stuff?”
“You’re looking at a straight-A student,” she winks, and I watch her turn on the burner before reorganizing all the beakers and test tubes. “You just sit there and look pretty, and let me do all the tough stuff,” she giggles and cracks her knuckles.
She starts mixing some of the liquids together and sets them over the flame, while I watch half curious, half wary of what may happen next. When the liquid starts boiling, she turns the knob for the burner down, but the flame gets bigger instead of smaller. Distress signals start to go off in my brain like bright red traffic signs.
“Mhh, that’s weird,” her forehead creases and her words must be loud enough for the professor to hear because I see him approach out of the corner of my eye, “I think this burner might be broke.”
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bsp; Professor Keller walks over to our table and takes a closer look, when he touches the knob, the flame shoots up as if he had turned it up all the way. The flame is so large that I can feel the heat of it on my face. Out of instinct, Caroline and I both push away from the table, while Prof. Keller tries to turn off the burner. As soon as he touches the switch, the whole thing blows up in his face. A scream catches in my throat as the entire classroom breaks out into chaos.
Everything happens so fast my brain can barely keep up. Prof. Keller’s face is badly burned, and even though I want to help him, I don’t know how. I’m in too much shock to know anything right now. Caroline grabs my arm and pulls me away further, as some guy helps the professor sit down on a chair nearby. Others around us are running out of the class, and two people are on the phone with emergency services.
A couple other teachers burst into the room telling us to walk outside. Caroline never leaves my side as we make it out of the building. Where a group of people have gathered. A lot of the girls are crying, and even the guys look like they are about to breakdown.
When I look over to Caroline, I realize that she has her phone out and is texting someone. I briefly wonder if I should text someone, do I need to let Shelby know that I’m okay? My thought is interrupted when the ambulance and police sirens approach at rapid speed.
“Let’s get out of the way,” Caroline tells me and starts tugging me away. I follow her mindlessly to the side of the building.
“Don’t you think they would want to talk to us? Maybe we should go back,” I point out when we are already at the corner. Caroline stops and faces me, an unreadable expression on her face.
“Harlow, listen, you have to believe me when I say that I am your friend. It might have not started that way, and I’m sorry about that, but I am your friend now, and I’m doing this to help you.”
“Doing what to help me?” I barely get the words out before someone grabs me from behind. A hand slaps over my mouth, muffling my scream. A pair of muscular arms circle my waist and pull me to a firm chest as I’m dragged backward.